Conceal All Our Lies
by WrthChld
Summary: Stan had never consider the thought of being gay until one day Kyle starts to treat him differently, and it doesn't take too long before Kyle refuse to be around his former best friend. And the closer Stan gets to know the truth of Kyles strange behavior, the more he starts to question his own feeling towards Kyle.
1. Prologue

AN: This is my first attempt on a fanfic story, so hope it isn't too bad as I don't have gotten a beta yet.

And important, this is just an prologue, the first chapter of the story start on the next page ;)

* * *

 **Prologue**

It's been a while since the last time I was to be found by these old funnels. I probably wouldn't believe them; if they told me I would be back in just a few days.

Everyone had told me how great I was doing, like an economic graph, going way over the budget. As late as yesterday I heard people talking about how my life was moving along, in a new and sounder direction. Personally, I didn't know if I wanted to believe them, maybe I was just scared. I knew I wasn't strong enough, I was reminded of that every single day; they sure didn't forget.

Right now, I'm weaker and more tired than ever. The pouring rain is penetrating my already wet clothes, making the weight on my shoulders a little heavier than I am capable of handling right now, taken into a count my sickening state. I am not exactly startled by the fact of being all-alone by myself out here.

I can see someone standing, in the far distance, a few feet away from me, on the other side of the pavement. Someone very frightening, but of course I can't tell you why; he just is. The dim light won't give away his scent, so for me he is just another obscure soul, so far, at this moment.

People who knew all the shit I've been through would say I was inure to this feeling; totally void of all emotions. That wasn't exactly true, because if there was one thing I've got too much of, it was senses. Like an over sensible seismograph, reacting to the slightest movement. I was a wreck, that could be said, but no one ever wanted to tell me that, even the ones who knew how aware I was of my very own state.

Nurtured on lies I was. Always told how much better I could do if I'd just tried. None of that was ever true, and the saddest part, I just accept it, that easily.

Back to the other side of the pavement he was still standing, not making the slightest movement. His face was still too dark to be recognizable, since I didn't have the slightest chance in seeing it, but still something told me I was being watched. Like his eyes were seeking for my face, in an attempt of burning me, and haunting my restless soul. Of course I knew it was a stupid thought, since he couldn't possibly hurt me, at least not with just his eyes, and most important at this far distance.

That was the curse of living a half dead life, to be forgotten beside a filthy pavement, in a ditch. You would start to have hallucinations and have problems to determine what's real, or even considered as possible.

So now I was just lying here, waiting for the cold to get me, and led me out of this miserable world.

I was certain that the temperature had lowered since I first came out here, but I couldn't say I was entirely sure. The only assumption I've got was that my body was too cold to feel, and that my violent trembling had briefly stopped, probably a result of my body being too cold to even function. I've looked down at my bare hands, were my skin had wrinkled up and begun to peel off, like an old apple, which had been exposed for too long, outside in the cold night. The sight of it only made me feel even worse and even more disgusted with myself.

For sure it wasn't a pleading sight, not a single bit. I couldn't enjoy the fresh new snow, like children or other youngsters often do, as I watch it with my now tired and dried out eyes. The snow had recently fallen to the ground, clear white crystals, dazzling my already unsteady vision. They usually said that the first snow would signalize a new start, with both hope and compassion. For me it was different, since I've know my time has come, I was certain, or at least I had prepared myself for the end, now in the very last minutes of my life.

Still, in the far distance I could see the obscure figure, which is slowly moving away from me, to leave me alone, like a kid's favorite toy, or doll, which has over the years lost its glory, awaiting the suffocating destiny to be stuffed away, abounded in a dusty corner. As I lay here, in my own darkness, I slowly begin to perceive to the emptiness, which had for so long tried to penetrating the walls I had used my whole life to build. Like a black cloak of perdition the darkness is taking its time to spread around me, carefully, as I finally, after all this time gives up to my other half. The part of me which always pointed out my mistakes, and knew how I one day would give up on everything.

More tired than ever, I just want to give in to this hard and filthy pavement, and send prayers, wishing for everything to just end. My body thought differently, since I am still alive, and not dead. Several times I assured myself that everything soon comes to an end, what a pleading thought.

Twice that night I could once again see the obscure person, only this time he is closer. Or, is he really closer? I wasn't sure, but, I was certain that this other person was drifting slowly towards, me?

I don't know if he was made from my very own imagination, or if he was real at all, but at least I do not think he is nonexistent. He is definitely moving closer to my side of the pavement now, and a small hope is lit up in me, a part of me hoping for the other being to be existent, and real. That this person might - can be the one to save me, even if I already have given up on myself.

The distance between me, and this other is still very far; so can't recognize him and identify his person yet, but I know who I want it to be. If my predictions are right, after all, it won't make him any less frightening. I know that he is either here to save me, or the other; which means he would be the end of my own existent. You know when you get the feeling, the one were your gut is telling you right or wrong? That's the feeling I've got, at this very moment, telling me that something about this other person isn't quite right, independent of who it might be.

Up until now, it had been pretty quiet out here, but as fast and interrupting as the sound of a crying baby, I hear a voice, screaming at me, trembling, like it is in tremendous pain. Limped by fear I can't respond, my body locked like a key in a locker, unable to give an answer, or make any noise for that matter. My voice just stop, even before I manage to get the air out of my throat, as I lay here, now struggling to breathe. I have problems with hearing as well, and I know that my senses get weaker with every passing minute.

My eye vision is the only proper function I've got left, still pretty and clear. I stare towards the other person, concentrating, and trying to decode what he is trying to tell me, what the screams means. Of course I can't comprehend to anything now, of what the voice is saying, as my brain is incapable of doing serious calculations at this moment.

I gathered all the strength I've got, trying to raise my body in a somewhat standing position, and walking with halts toward this other person. I don't know if it is a lucky chance or not, but the other person is not flinching as I moves closer, slowly. Then my body comes to a sudden stop. Locking once again, as I am pine frozen to the spot, my legs not allowing me to move any closer.

Still no chance in seeing his face, but I never in my whole life had hoped to be more wrong. For now I know who it is, and no, I am not wrong, of course I am not, it can't be anyone else. I'm not afraid of him in general, and have never before been, and of course I would gladly meat him on any other regular day, just not know, not in this state. I know he is not himself; I know that, he is something else, something much more frightening.

I really don't know why I do it, but my voice hushing his name in a silent whisper, low, to attest that it really is him. There is no doubt in me, he heard my voice, because he is real, and has been this whole night.

I close my eyes, hoping for this nightmare to be over soon, but when I open them he is still there. Only now his face is just inches away from mine, breathing his cold breath at me, in my clammy and sweaty face. His breath is slowly filling me, sending several razors down my throat, and I am feeling for the first time this night. Not a good feeling, but a feeling of agonizing pain.

I feel sick, wanting to vomit, scream, as I look upon his damaged face. But my mouth keep shut, as I feel an itching prick of an invisible needle; sewing my mouth together, much like the stitched mouth in front of me. His eyes aren't as bright as I remembered them, but rather dull and sunken into his now burned and suppurating face. I know this can't be real, or at least I won't admit it.

In blind fear, I try to run, but my legs are too tired, too heavy to hold me up any longer. Probably I used all the power this body had left to offer, when I walked towards this monster. My feet were now collapsing under me, and I fell harshly to the wet ground beneath me. I slowly turn around, one last time, to look up at the once familiar, but now distorted face. Looking down at me, like a fallen angel watching over me with lusterless eyes, sneering, to tell me the story of my measly death. The saddest part is that I give in so easily to him, as my eyelids fall heavy down, to give my eyes rest, as my last breath leaves my body, and all my vitality is taken away from me.

I don't lie when I say I'm afraid of what he might do to me, but my body does not seem to care, as it starts the process of shutting down. I know now that the scream I heard didn't come from him, as I hear his voice call out my name soothingly, as the last thing I hear, before I completely give in, and his dead cold hand gripping harshly around my limp shoulder.

* * *

So would love to hear what you guys think.

If you like my story, favorite it or follow it, well that really warms my heart. But if you really want to help me as a writer and encouraging me to bring this story back to life please let me know in a review :)

So up next is chapter 1, enjoy :D


	2. Chapter 1

AN: So here it is, the first chapter of my story, well not much more to say actually.

Hope you like it :)

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **My Best Friend**

"Kyle, Kyle, you awake", stills, I've got no response from the sleeping redhead, as I pushed gingerly at his soft shoulder.

Outside the sun had reached high above the Colorado mountaintops, letting thin beams of light seep through the dull and grey blinds, hanging down in front of the bedroom window. Barely lighting up the little room, making it almost impossible to fall back to sleep.

Anyway, I was too immersed of looking at the sleeping boy next to me, to even concern about my lack of sleep that night. I watched Kyle as he wrapped himself further into the duvet, his mouth curved up, giving him the pleasant look of one, after achieving something great. Making me wonder what Kyle might be dreaming of. By the look of it, the dream had come to the climax, I could not think of any other explanation for a sleepy-grin like that.

It made me happy to see my best friend like that, pleased by the thoughts of something that I didn't know of. Sure I knew it is a bit strange to watch your best friend while he slept, but really I didn't care.

He just looked so cute, innocent _, what the hell? Did I just think that, that..._ I stop for a brief moment. _Did I just think that?_ I thought bewildered; as I took a closer look at the sleeping boy next to me, his soft hair curving around his almost blemish free and still youthful face. There were some light-brown freckles across his nose, which one couldn't really see, unless you one knew about them; of course I knew about them. It was almost like he knew everything about the little redhead. Come to think of it, there were probably no one else knowing Stan as well as Kyle too, and that thought always made Stan smile to himself.

I had to admit that we had always been pretty close, ever since we were small, and that didn't seem to change much through the years. Now, at the age of fifteen, they still had their regular sleepovers, and it didn't seem like either of them give a damn about sharing the same bed. After all, Kyle did have a king size bed, but still he wasn't so sure if it was labeled normal, to share it with your best friend of fifteen years. No, Stan for one had never really care, they were best friends, and had always been sharing a bed at their sleepovers, ever since they were small. So it was only natural, a habit that didn't seem to go away anytime soon.

My look drifted slowly away from Kyle and over to the red alarm clock, standing on the bedside table, it read 7:34. _Shit; we promised to meet Kenny at Sizzler in less than an hour_ , but right now, it didn't seem like they would be able to make it on time.

"Kyle, Kyle! We have to wake up now, this instant!" I nearly screamed at him, gripping his shoulders to shake him awake, but still no response. He just laid there unconscious, so either he was sleeping way deeper than the average teenager, or he was just pretending too, choosing to ignore my nagging. I knew the Broflovskis resident usually, except of Kyle, used to get up early, so raising my voice wouldn't be that big of a deal, would it? Assuming that all of his family members where all awake by know, I raised my voice.

"I know you want to sleep in Kyle, but you, we, have to wake up now, god dammit!" This time he actually heard me, but his response wasn't really helping "Bt cn'twe slep, jst littl longr, Stn?"

Really, I couldn't blame him for being tired and grumpy this morning. The previous evening we had been playing video games, all sorts from racing to guitar hero on Kyle's Xbox. Then we wasted the rest of our time on an almost three hour long movie. The clock was almost half past two in the morning, before Sheila had to come down to us, in her nightgown, demanding for us to turn off the television, probably a result of the television being too loud to sleep. We didn't fall right to sleep of course, but instead lied there, in Kyle's bed, looking up at sealing, small-taking as the night dragged on.

"Kyle?", I asked, as the red head all of a sudden snuggled against me, showing no interest in waking up any soon.

"Kyle!" I shrilled. Astound at hearing my voice squeak, something it usually did when I either screamed a little too loud, or in this case felt nervousness and unease.

"Hmm?" Kyle mumbled,

"Get off me!"

"Why?" Kyle asked, finally opening his eyes, looking up at me, his emerald green orbs seeing through me. He knew I didn't care, that I more than likely didn't bother.

So I just answered dully, "Because we promised to meet Kenny?"

"When?"

"Half past eight, we have less than an hour, dude" I stated matter of factually.

"I mean, when did we promise Kenny anything?"

"Oh, last week I guess" I answer, not quite sure myself.

"Text him, say we can't make it"

I looked at Kyle skeptically, "Really?"

"Yeah, why not" he grunts, with a tired grin "No we can't, we promised to meet him, Kyle. So can't we just get it over with?"

"Why?" Kyle ask, trying to be as stubborn as possible.

"Because if we don't show up Kenny would nag on us all week, and I would do well, without Kenny nagging at me, you know. Anyway you're awake so I don't see the problem." Actually I did, I'm tiered as fuck, but still I just can't bail on Kenny like that, thanks to my over sensible conscience.

"You don't see the problem? I'm too tired to even function properly", he grumbles at me.

"I see that" smirking, hinting to his need of closeness this morning.

"Very funny Mr. Dickhead" He snaps at me, followed by one of those innocent smiles of his.

"But Stan, why were we meeting up with Kenny again?"

"I don't know, it seems he forget to tell me dude"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Kyle grunted, with a stoned face.

"No, seriously dude... I guess I didn't care that much about it when Kenny told me, so I didn't ask."

"Fucking great, Stan" he sarcastically tells me, beginning to mimic Kenny. "Stan, can you meet me at Sizzler half past fucking early eight in the morning? Remember to drag Kyle with you. Sounds good to me Stan, thank you very much!"

"No need to bitch about it thought, you know as well as me that you rather be around me, than being without me, at home, sleeping". Kyle look stunned for a short moment, biting his lower lip, giving me a secretive smile. "Maybe..." he says with a playful grin, he knows I am right.

"Okay, we shall wake up then?" Kyle asks, finally sounding like his joyful-self. I just look back at him, grinning to myself.

"What Stan? Is there something wrong? or...what?" Kyle glances at me with a skeptical look.

"No, nothing. I just think you look kind of cute when you're tired." If Kyle had been confused, he was now looking at me totally mortified.

"You think I look cute? What is that supposed to mean?" He didn't look furious, just a little out of it.

"You know that I'm just kidding with you, Kylie" I beam back at him, dragging the vowels of his name, because I knew how easily Kyle gets started when I call his name in that manner. Kyle simply shake his head, and smiles back at me, totally forgetting to correct me: that his name is Kyle, not Kylie.

As Kyle slowly moves toward his pile of clothes, I reach for my blue jeans, lying on the floor next to Kyle's bedside table, with the red alarm clock on top of it. Kyle is standing beside his bed now, reaching for his green t-shirt, without a single though that he is in front of me in just his underwear. I throw a few quick glimpses over at Kyle, as he stands there, dressing himself.

I can't exactly tell when Kyle began to appear so pleasing and appealing to me. I couldn't even figure out why. I've got a girlfriend that most guys would die for, Wendy Testaburger, and for second I had never been into guys, not at all. So I could safely say that I never had considered myself as a faggot, gay, bisexual, call it what you want.

Then again, if I was honest with myself I would admit It felt better being with Kyle, then with Wendy. Still I didn't know why I had these strange feelings toward Kyle? Sure his body was lean and slim, with smooth skin, and I don't know why; but I, several times caught myself looking at the front of his boxers, which hide is genitals. Asking myself yet again why... To my luck I don't think Kyle was aware of me staring at him, checking him out. At least he did not mention it after he changed, and walked out of his bedroom, to the bathroom on the other side the corridor.

"Do you need to use the bathroom in privacy" Kyle asks me, as we stand there, in front of the door with the letter; bathroom on it.

"Why? I don't need to use the toilet if that's what you mean. Besides, where in a hurry, so if you thought about taking a warm shower I think you have to reconsider that option, dude."

Kyle raises his shoulders; looking directly at me with his hands on his hips, which make him look even more stubborn and childish.

"You know Stan, you think too much," he says. "I was just asking in pure honor and politeness to my very extraordinary guest." He adds, pulling off a very fake and affected accent, which makes me laugh, before I push him politely in the shoulder.

"Thank you very much young Mr. Broflovski" "My pleasure young Marsh, my pleasure," he jokes back.

When I'm done washing my face, I raise my head back up to the mirror, my ocean blue eyes staring back at me. I can see my best friend on the right side of the mirror, desperately fiddling with his hair, trying to make it look somewhat neat. I am very used to seeing Kyle, but seeing myself next to him was a rare sight.

After all, one couldn't see oneself, unless one was a girl, who always carried her pocket mirror, and I wasn't a girl.

I had to admit that we both had the same childish features on our faces, as I took a closer look at our faces, reflecting back at us in the mirror. I always thought that the childish features made Kyle more innocent, but unfortunately he couldn't convince himself, that it was true in his case.

I poked Kyle in the ribs, chuckling, "dude, you're hair looks great, don't bother so much." but I know I didn't sound that convincing.

"Oh shut up! What's nice with this goddamn Jew-fro? Nothing, I tell you, nothing."

Agitating Kyle isn't the most difficult task, because he always gets so provoked by small things. Honestly, I like Kyle's hair, so it's kind of sad that he is always so stubborn, and trying to convince me of the total opposite. I cluck to myself, looking at Kyle. "You know what? I wouldn't have though that you of all people would use one of Cartman's phrases. Jew-fro, it's more a Cartman thing to say, if you know what I mean".

"Good point. You're done?" Kyle is apparently done, and his eyes are now fixed at me.

"Yeah, almost, I just have to do my hair dude, and brush my teeth " I say, as my hand is reaching for my red toothbrush. "Do you have some extra toothpaste, I forgot mine at home."

"Yeah, just use mine, it's at the bottom shelf in the cupboard".

I give him a nod, as Kyle walks toward the door, before stopping. "You know Stan, you aren't any better," he laughs at me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, not quite sure where he is going.

"You know... that you of all people tell me to not bother about my hair, and look at you" he snickers. I tell him to shut up, before he leaves for the kitchen downstairs, to find us something to eat.

It didn't take me too long to get done; I was already on my way down the stairs, when I met Sheila. She was carrying a huge basket, with what was apparently a pile of newly washed clothes. I sent her a smile and said my good-mornings.

"Oh good-morning Stanley, you're awake already?" Of course she knew about our late night, but she was still looking at me kind of puzzled for other reasons; like, why two 15-year-olds would wake up this early on a weekend.

"Yeah, almost, Kyle's down at the kitchen, we are meeting up with Kenny at Sizzler, that's why", I tell her, hoping to set things clear.

"Oh, I see... ", She smiles at me, now petting my shoulder, before she moves along with her big cloth-pile.

As I walk past the living room I can see Ike sitting on the couch, watching some old cartoons. Gerald was probably not home; at least Kyle was the only one in the kitchen, when I entered the room. Usually when I was sleeping over at the Broflovski's I was met by Gerald, who was either reading the newspaper, or working with some kind of paperwork.

"Where's Gerald?" I ask. Kyle just shrug his shoulders lightly, in a matter of unconscious.

"I don't know, maybe weekend work or some other shit."

"That sucks, working on the weekend." I say, as I stick my tongue out in some sort of gesture.

"Yeah I know, he works almost all the time after he was promoted", he tells me nonchalantly. "I found some sandwiches in the fridge if you want some".

"Nah, I'll just take some cereal", I say, pointing at the blue Kellogg's cereal package, standing at the kitchen-table, with Tony the Tiger spread across the front. "Okay" Kyle respond, while he makes himself a sandwich.

As we sit there at the little kitchen table, eating, I couldn't resist the urge to drown in Kyle's emerald green eyes. His green eyes look thrilled, as he prattled on about some new TV-series of his.

Most people would say I use to hold my gaze a little bit too long, especially when it came to Kyle. Frequently I nod my head in approval, to tell him that I understand what he is saying. And of course he just continues with his babbling, not aware that I'm too occupied with his eyes, to get anything out of what he is saying. I feel kind of bad though, for just sitting here, eating my cereal, nodding frequently, without at least trying to get something out of his little speech.

As I sit there, studying my best friend, half listening to what he has to say, I must admit, his hair doesn't look that bad, not at all. To me his hair looks wealthy, even if it is a little mess. When I used to ask Kyle why he doesn't like his hair, trust me, he doesn't. He usually compares it to those red alert lights, you often see in dangerous movie scenes. His hair isn't that red, more a golden-orange, but of course Kyle can't see that, no.

"Are you even listening to me?" I snap out of my daydream as fast as I can, but fail completely. "How...? Yeah sure, I totally agree".

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I look back at Kyle's dazed look, "I mean, how..." Fortunately Kyle sees my struggle, and helps me out of it. "I was just asking if you had any idea of why Kenny is dragging us down to Sizzler this early, on a weekend," he says, still looking a little tired. I can tell by the way he is looking down at his food, not hungrily at all.

"Actually, it can be anything when it comes to Kenny."

"Yeah, I know, I only think it's a little strange, even for Kenny, that he won't tell us", Kyle look back at me.

"Strange?" I squeak in a high-pitched voice, wrinkling my nose.

"Kenny isn't the most secretive person I know, nothing more. I didn't mean strange in a bad way, it's just weird" Kyle answer.

I look at Kyle, holding back a smirk, "it's Kenny. He's always weird. We all are, I mean, we live in South Park, for god sake." Kyle looks back at me, half smiling, as we continue with our breakfast.

Ten minutes later, Kyle were pulling the zipper of his green and orange snowboard jacket, all the way to the top. Before putting on his trademark green ushanka, which completely covers his hair .

"Kyle you should try to go without the ushanka for once. You're only messing up you're so called "perfect" hair", I joke at him, actually meaning it.

"The same can be said to you," he shot back, laughing, as I put on my brown jacket, and old puffball hat.

"You know I could easily go a week without my hat."

"Then do it", he challenged.

"Why? ... What do I get?" I ask, half knowing it would be money, and I am right. "20 bucks" "Neh, I don't need your charity."

"Chicken!"

"Whatever you say, Kylie. Ready to go?" For the second time that day, he didn't make a comment on his _new_ pet name, so he is either extremely tired, or he kind of liked it. He just give me a nod, as we head out the door.

It was the middle of September, and to all the kids' disappointment, the snow still hadn't fall.

"You know Ike?"

"No, Ike who" I say sarcastic.

"Not that, I mean you should have heard how much he looks forward to the snow. He has his own calendar where he counts down to when the summer is officially over"

"It is over Kyle, you can tell him that", I say, lightly hugging himself.

"It's strange, we have almost anything but summer, and someone actually looks forward to the end of it."

"I look forward to it."

"Why the hell do you do that", Kyle's snaps back at me.

"Because it's cozy?... But I still see your point", I add fast, grinning back at him, as he send me a smile back.

It was a ten minutes walk to Sizzler, and the clock was already thirty-five minutes past eight when we got there.

 _That's strange_ , I thought, _where is Kenny_ , but the boy was nowhere to be seen. The only person I could see, in the distance was one Eric Cartman. _Kenny, where the fuck are you,_ I thought a second time, as Cartman send me a crooked grin.

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AN: All favorite, follows and reviews are taken with the biggest gratitude :)

And if you like my story so far please let me know, that would really encourage me to write more and becoming an even better writer.

PS: Still, I am in need of a beta, so if anyone are interested, shout out! :D


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